


Constant and Static

by You_Are_Constance



Series: Fixed and Frozen [2]
Category: The Clockmaker's Daughter - Webborn/Finn
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Music, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27250957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Are_Constance/pseuds/You_Are_Constance
Summary: The first thing she felt was falling. Only then, she hadn’t known the word. She hadn’t known any words. The world was… dark, if that was the word. Dark, until she opened her eyes. Then there was a bit of light. A bit of light amongst the dark.And a person.
Relationships: William Riley/Constance Reed
Series: Fixed and Frozen [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989670
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is the accompanying fic to A Quirk in the Machinery, this one written from Constance's perspective. Technically, they can be read in either order, but I suggest reading A Quirk in the Machinery first if you haven't yet.
> 
> Also, I'm doing the same thing where each chapter title is the name of a showtune, so let's see if any of you know all the ones I do!

The first thing she felt was falling. Only then, she hadn’t known the word. She hadn’t known any words. The world was… dark, if that was the word. Dark, until she opened her eyes. Then there was a bit of light. A bit of light amongst the dark. 

She saw a person, in front of her. Dark curls and just as dark eyes. He held onto her arm, seeming to search her face. 

“Constance?” he asked as he grabbed both of her hands. “Do you know me? Do you remember?” 

She looked down at the ground, trying to echo the sounds he made. 

“Re-mem-ber,” she tried, then looked back up to see his… expression. That was the word. He didn’t respond at first, and his expression was not one of joy. He looked… sad… and afraid. 

That only lasted for a moment before he replied, letting go of one of her hands and pointing to her. “Constance. Can you say that?” 

It was a lot of words. The only one she could get was “That.” 

“Constance,” he repeated, still pointing to her. “Say Constance.” 

“Con-stance,” she tried, then tried again. “Constance.” 

“Yes!” He grabbed her hand again and moved it until it lay on her chest. “You are Constance.” 

“You are Constance,” she said slowly. 

He shook his head. He pointed to himself, ”Me,” then back to her, “You.” 

She echoed his movements exactly, pointing to him, “Me,” then to herself, “You.” 

He shook his head. He took her hand again, pointing it to herself. “Constance.” 

She pointed to herself, “Me,” then to him, “You.” 

“Yes!” he cheered. “You’re getting it!” 

He put his hand on his chest and said, “Will.” 

She pointed to him and repeated it. “Will.” 

“Yes!” 

She learned quickly that doing something right got him to smile and cheer, and she wanted him to keep doing that. She pointed to him, saying, “Will,” then to herself, “Constance.” 

He smiled wider as he nodded. He took her hand again and asked, “Want to go home?” 

“Home? What is home?” 

“It’s…” he hesitated. “A home is a place you love.” 

“What is love?” 

He hesitated for even longer. “When you love someone,” he eventually tried, “you care about them very much. You want to be with them forever, and you never want to let them go.” 

She noticed his smile falling for just a moment before he reached out his hand towards her. “Come with me,” he said as she took his hand. “I have more to tell you there.” 

Will led Constance away from where they were, towards a large building. He taught her more simple words on the way. When they had made it inside—after dropping a few things by the door—he led her into the main room. She saw him glance out the window for a moment, following his gaze, and was immediately transfixed by the view outside. 

The world below them was so pretty, bathed in silver light. They had just come from there, if Constance understood correctly, but it hadn’t looked as pretty down there as it did from up here. 

“What is that?” she asked him, pointing out of the window, towards the town. 

“Spindlewood,” he told her. 

“Spindlewood,” she echoed. 

“If you want,” he continued, “we can go back in a little while. Would you like that?” She nodded enthusiastically. “So we will. But first, how about we learn some more?” 

She nodded, beginning to form more words. “I would like that.” 

It was difficult to string together even just a few words into a coherent sentence, but it was worth it when she could see how happy it made Will. It made her want to learn even more so that she could make him even happier. At this point, she didn't know why exactly why she wanted him to be happy, but she knew that she wanted it, and that was enough at this point. Maybe she'd figure out more later. Until then, she just wanted to keep learning. 

Luckily, Will seemed to want her to learn just as much as she wanted to learn. 


	2. Learn to Do It

After a while, Constance picked up something from a table, asking, "What is this?"

"A book," he told her.

"A book," she repeated, as had become the standard.

"It tells a story without speaking a word."

She opened the cover and started to flip through the pages. Everything just looked like a bunch of random scribbles. "What kind of story?" she asked, still flipping through the book.

"Any kind. All of them are different."

"How does it tell?" he looked up to him.

"Well," he began, taking the book from her hands and pointing to the scribbles on the page she had turned to. "These little black markings are called words—"

"Words?" she exclaimed. "I know words!"

He smiled at her, “Yes, you do. These words are the same thing we speak, but it's written down. The words are made up of letters, which each make different sounds. The letters make the words, the words make sentences, and eventually, the sentences make stories."

"Learn?" she asked. Will raised an eyebrow at her; she knew what that meant. "Can I learn?" she corrected herself.

Will nodded and closed the book. He crossed the room and went to a wall that had all sorts of books on it. He grabbed paper and ink, as well as selecting one of the books and walking back over to her. They both sat down, and he started to teach her. He started by teaching her the names of all the letters and what sounds they made, then demonstrated how to write them. She practiced, copying his letters. Then he taught her how to spell her own name and write it.

"C, O, N, S, T, A, N, C, E," he told her slowly, waiting for her to finish writing each letter before he told her the next one.

She finished writing her name. "Can I learn how to write yours now?" she asked.

Will nodded and began, "W, I, L, L."

She proudly showed him when he finished. "Good job! Want to try reading the book now?"

She nodded. He opened it for her, and she slowly started to read the first page.

"Once... upon... a... time," she started. She looked up at him. "What does that mean?"

"It's just how a lot of stories begin."

She looked back down at the page. "I like that." She continued to read the rest of the page. With each passing word, it got easier and faster. Will helped her whenever she came across a word that she couldn't figure out.

It took a long time to get through the book, but she didn't care how long it took. She fell in love with the story as she read.

When she finished, she immediately wanted to read another. "Are all stories as... as.." She couldn't seem to find the right word. Will tried suggesting a few, but none of them felt right. "As won-der-ful as that? Is that the right word?"

Will nodded. "Wonderful is the right word. It means something is truly great."

"Are all stories as wonderful?" She wanted them to be since that was, and she wanted more.

He took a long time to respond. Constance worried that she had done something wrong.

"No," he eventually replied. "Not all stories are wonderful like that."

Oh. Her face fell.

"But," he continued, "Some are even better."

She looked back up at him. "Better?" she asked.

He nodded. "Better."

Will then walked back over to the bookshelf and selected a few books from it, bringing them over to her.

“Here’s a few other ones to try,” he said, Constance immediately grabbing the one on the top of the stack. She started to read through it. It was getting even easier as she read more.

For a long time, Constance did nothing but read. She read through the stack that Will had picked out for her, then started to pick out more from the bookshelf.


	3. When the Sun Goes Down

Constance was reading when Will came out from another room and sat down next to her. She glanced up at him, noticing a stack of… something… in his arms.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Another thing we’re going to try,” he told her, then launched into an explanation. “It’s called sewing. You take these, a needle and thread, and use them to turn this, fabric, into something else.”

He set the fabric on her lap, trying to teach her how it worked.

She looked down at all of it, still confused. “And you make? Make what?”

“Anything you want,” he insisted. “You can make anything you can think of.”

“But… what?”

“What do you want to make?”

Constance went quiet. She couldn’t come up with anything. She had everything she could ever want; she didn’t need anything else.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered.

“That’s okay,” he told her after a beat. “You don’t always have to know. If you want, I can help you get started.”

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded.

“Alright then, let’s start with something simple.” He reached around her and began to guide her hands and teach her. It was slow, but by the end of the day, they had created a simple bag.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Constance shook her head. It wasn’t hard, at least not with him helping her. Something felt vaguely… right… about this. About sewing. She didn’t know why.

“Can you help me make something else?” she asked. This time, he just helped walk her through the instructions and let her work through it on her own.

When she finished that, Will asked if she was finished or if she wanted to make something else, to which she replied that she was done for now. He took the fabric and put them away. While he was doing that, Constance had walked back over to the window that overlooked Spindlewood. When he came back into the room, Constance turned around and asked, “When can we go out?”

He glanced towards the window, then back at her. “Soon,” he decided.

“When?”

“Tonight. When it’s dark and even more beautiful. Does that sound alright?”

Constance looked out the window before she replied. She looked back to him and nodded. “It sounds wonderful.”

Will kept to his promise. That night, the two of them went out into the town. She'd been wanting to for a little while. It was only a few days, but it was still long enough.

Part of her had wanted to go out during the day, but the rest of her was content to be out with Will at all. 

And he was right. It really was beautiful. The faint lights set in the dark sky that caused everything to seem slightly blue, the long shadows surrounding them, all of it.

Constance walked slightly ahead of Will as she explored the town. She loved exploring the town. During the night, she got farther and farther ahead of Will, until he ran to catch up with her.

"Do you want to see somewhere even more beautiful?" he asked her. She nodded immediately, though she couldn't exactly imagine someplace more beautiful than where they were.

"Where?"

Will grabbed her hand, saying, "This way," and starting to show her the way.

Constance followed where he led, but still looking around as he showed her the way. Will led her away from the town and into the wide-open countryside.

He stopped, and Constance assumed it meant they were there. She looked around for a moment, noticing the small stream that ran through the grassy fields. She let go of Will's hand and walked towards it.

Will was right. This place was even more beautiful. The dim light from the moon and the stars shined on the clear water of the stream, shining silver light over the area.

After exploring the area for a little while, Constance laid down by the stream, staring into the water and dipping her hands into it. The water looked like... crystals. Was that the right word? It sounded right.

After a little while, Will sat down beside her, taking off his shoes and dipping his feet into the stream. She sat up not long after, copying Will's movements of taking off her shoes and dipping her feet into the water. She dried her hands on her skirt, which she noticed was quite dirty, then she stared up at the sky.

"It's wonderful," she breathed. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sky and the stars.

They both sat there for a long time. until the sky started to grow lighter as the sun rose.

Then Will stood up, grabbing his shoes and alternating Constance to the fact that it was time to leave.

"Do we have to?" she wined. She didn't want to leave this place. Something about it seemed... familiar, but she knew that she'd never been there before. It was strange. She thought that maybe, if she stayed here for a little while, she might figure out why.

Will nodded, but he looked as if he didn't want to leave either.

Constance reluctantly grabbed her shoes and stood up, then started back towards the house. She knew the path already, even if she'd only walked it once. She walked at a faster pace than Will started, but he ran to catch up with her so that they could walk home together.


	4. I Love the Way

The next day, Will surprised her by sitting down beside her while she was reading, saying, "I wrote a story. Do you want to read it?"

Constance saw a leather-bound book in his hand. She nodded and reached out to grab it, but Will held it out of her reach.

"Do you want to read it yourself or do you want me to read it to you?" he asked with a smug smile on his face. Constance stopped reaching as she considered the question.

"Read it to me," she decided.

Will nodded and stood up in front of her. He closed his eyes and didn't move for a few seconds.

Then he began.

"Once upon a time," he said with a smile. Constance loved that phrase. "In a land not far from here," he continued, "there lived a clockmaker. A master of his craft, Broken, at the loss of a child. Lost, in the death of love."

Constance loved the story already.

He told this story in quite a lot of detail.

"And so the clockmaker, so desperate for the life he had before, resolved to bring it back. He resolved to build back what he had lost.

"Now in this town, there was not only the clockmaker. There was a young woman, preparing for what was sure to be the best day of her life. This young woman went to the town's dressmaker, to order a wedding dress."

He seemed to be switching between different perspectives quite a lot but was also telling it well enough that Constance could keep track and follow the story.

“The clockmaker, after working for a long time to build up what he had lost, was finally prepared to try out his creation. Would it work? Would it not? He tried to bring her to life.”

He paused, Constance leaning forward in her seat.

“And she moved. She worked.”

Constance wondered how Will could have come up with a story like this.

“The son of the town’s dressmaker was different from the rest of the people in town. This town was small and peaceful. Things always stayed the same. Most of the townspeople liked that. This boy was not one of them. He dreamed of greater things. He dreamed of traveling the world, since there must be more out there than just what he’d seen.”

Constance was starting to really like this character.

“It was another, normal day in town, but it was much more than normal for the girl. This was the first time she dared to leave. The first time she dared to disobey the rules and enter the town.”

As Will continued the story, Constance became more and more invested in it.

She was completely stunned by the end of it.

“And legend says that the girl lives on, trapped in time. She is worshiped by the very people who cast her out. And the boy, the boy who gave his life because of love, still waits. Be it through life or death, he awaits the return of his one love.”

He stopped there, a hopeful look on his face.

Something about the story felt familiar, just like the stream had a couple of nights ago. It was as if she had heard it before, but she didn’t know where.

Since Constance didn’t say anything, Will prompted, “What do you think?”

“Is… Is that where it ends?” she asked. She hoped not.

Will sat down beside her again. “I’m not actually sure yet. I think it could have more, don’t you?”

Constance nodded. “It should have a happy ending, where the girl comes back, and the boy is waiting for her, and they can be happy and in love.” It was what she wanted for the characters. She wanted a happy ending for everyone, but those two characters, maybe more than others. She could… connect with them, in a way, though she wasn’t exactly sure how.

“That does sound nice,” Will replied, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So you can just end it like that,” she told him.

“I wish I could.”

“Why not?”

Wasn’t he the one who wrote the story? Why couldn’t he control the ending?

“I can’t always control stories like this,” he explained. “I may be the one writing it down, but really, sometimes the story writes itself, and this is one of those times.”

“Oh, well, I hope it writes itself a happy ending.”

She wanted it for them.

More than she could realize.


	5. Reflections

Constance wanted to know what she was missing. Ever since Will told her that story, she had known for sure that something was missing, from her memory, from something. She wasn’t sure what it was yet, or even how much she was missing.

All she knew is that she wanted to find an answer.

One day, a while later, when Will was busy writing and Constance didn’t want to bother him, she decided to explore a part of the house she hadn’t been before.

In the time the two of them had spent here alone, Constance had explored almost all of the house.

Everywhere, except behind one door.

Will had shown her everywhere in the house before but had for some reason walked past this door. She didn’t know why.

This door had always been closed as long as she had been here. The door at the end of the hall.

Will had never told her she couldn’t go there. He’d never told her that she couldn’t go anywhere, but she still got the feeling that there was something she wasn’t supposed to see.

And yet, whatever was inside seemed to be calling to her. She’d been ignoring it for so long, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was something for her, behind that closed door. An answer, maybe to the questions that had been plaguing her.

Constance stared at the door from where she stood at the other end of the hall. She felt drawn to it. Her feet started moving down the hall of their own accord.

She stopped when she reached the end of the hall, her fingertips brushing against the wood of the door.

It wasn’t forbidden, nowhere was, but she still couldn’t help but feel as if she weren’t supposed to see what was behind this door.

Still, she took hold of the doorknob, listening to the creaking as she turned it.

She stood in the now open doorway with her eyes shut tight before she managed to gather the courage to open her eyes and enter.

It was a small room, almost like a large closet. The first things she noticed were dresses. She recognized one of them. It was the one she had been wearing in the first thing she remembered. When she first met Will. It had disappeared after she had changed out of it. Now she knew that it had ended up here. There were more dresses, two of them. One mostly a dark brown with a couple stripes of teal, at the shoulders, the waist, and the hem of the dress. The other had more pieces, a white dress with billowy sleeves, a dark brown corset, and a lighter brown skirt. They both seemed familiar, but she didn’t remember them.

As she looked more in-depth at the other items in the room, she saw fabric, specifically a stack of white and pink satins with pale blue gems, then another stack of more common fabrics of duller colors and simple patterns. She saw a clock, and tools, similar to ones she had seen around before. There was a grey hat, and a picture that looked kind of like her, but somehow younger.

Constance didn’t know what that meant. As far as she was aware, she had always looked like this.

She didn’t know what any of this meant. She didn’t know why it was all hidden away. It certainly didn’t help her figure out the answers to her questions. It only made her more confused.

Constance looked at all the items again, then turned around, walking out and closing the door behind her.

Something felt off about that room, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to deal with it right now.

Or ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I won't be posting another chapter tomorrow, but it will be posted on Sunday


	6. Angel of Music

It was a long while later when something new happened. For a long time, things were the same. Constance would spend her time reading or sewing, they'd go out in town during the nights, and sometimes Will would tell her stories. It was a pleasant life. She got used to the routine, but still welcomed the change when it came.

"Do you want to learn something else?" he asked one day. Constance nodded. She always wanted to learn more.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Come with me," he urged her.

She stood up and followed him. He didn't lead her that far away, just to a different part of the same room. There was... something, big, there. She didn't know what it was called. Will must not have told her yet.

"This is a piano," he told her as they both sat down in front of it.

"Piano," she repeated. It was a fun word.

"You can make music out of it."

"Music? I like music."

"Do you want to learn how to play it?"

She nodded again.

So her he started to teach her. He taught her that certain 'keys' played certain notes, and by combining them you could make music. He taught her how to read music and what all the different signs meant, and he even taught her that the names of each of the notes.

"See, like this." He started playing notes on the piano while telling the names of them as he played them. "A, B, C, D, E, F, G."

"I know those!" she exclaimed. "Those are letters!"

He nodded. "But in music, you don't use all the letters. You only use A through G."

"Why?"

"It just works like that. I don't exactly know why."

The first few lessons seemed to fly by. Before long, Constance was starting to play some songs on her own. They also played duets together, taking them slowly for a long time until Constance could get the hang of it.

Learning to play the piano was a lot of work, and it was difficult, but Constance loved the experience. Most of all, she liked doing it with Will. She liked it when they sat next to each other on the bench and played together.

One day, Constance longed for an excuse to be nearer to him, so she spontaneously asked, "Can we do a lesson?" She watched as he set his book used for writing aside and stood up.

"Of course," he said. They both walked over to the piano, Will sitting down on one side of the bench, Constance sitting beside him. Constance started playing the songs she had been working on. She felt rather good about that run-through, which was rather different.

After she had finished, Will first began by telling her that she had done well, then started on the lesson. When he was finished, Constance knew he would go back to his writing, but she didn't want him to. She wanted to stay sitting beside him and playing music.

"Teach me something else," she asked, desperate for an excuse to keep him there.

"Okay, " he replied. "What do you want to learn?"

"How about something..." she didn't know. She didn't think she'd get this far. "new? Create something."

"I think the word you want is 'improvise.'"

She nodded. "Improvise."

"Alright," he said, then didn't respond for a few seconds. "How about I start with playing and you singing?"

"What do I sing?"

"Whatever you want," he told her. "When you improvise, you try something and see if it fits. If it doesn't, you try something else next time. Do you remember the lesson I gave on key signatures?"

She nodded. It was one of the first lessons he'd given her.

He suggested a key signature and time signature, both of which sounded reasonable, so she agreed.

After that was decided, Will hesitated for a moment before beginning to play.

Constance listened to him play for a moment before coming in with singing. She had never heard what she was singing before, but it still felt so... familiar. Like so many other things had.

"Everything I knew, feels do new with you. And I don't know where you're going, but I'm going where you'll be. There's so much waiting there... for me."

Will faded out with the last few words. He looked at her, seeming to study her for a moment. Constance wasn't sure what that meant.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, concerned that she might have sung something that he didn't like.

Thankfully, Will shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. That was... incredible."

"Wonderful?"

He nodded. "Wonderful. Let’s try again, shall we?"

She nodded. "Can I pick the key?"

"Go ahead."


	7. Crossing a Bridge

The two of them played music for a long time. Constance couldn't think of a single thing she'd rather be doing.

One morning, Will spontaneously asked her, "How do you feel about trying to go into town again soon?" They'd been going a lot during the night time, so Constance wasn't exactly sure where the question had come from. It wasn't like they hadn't been going into town at all for a while.

"Tonight?"

Will shook his head. "I was thinking sometimes during the day."

She was certain that she had heard wrong. It sounded foreign to her. They never went out during the day.

"Spindlewood, during the day?"

"Will chuckled. "You like that idea?"

She nodded. "I'd love that."

"How do you feel about tomorrow?"

"Yes, wonderful!"

"It's settled then. Tomorrow."

Constance could hardly sit still the rest of for the rest of the day. She was looking forward to the next day so much that she couldn't force herself to focus on anything else.

Until Will gave her a suggestion. He suggested that she should make something special to wear. She loved that idea, so she set to work. She created a dress—one very different from anything she'd worn or even made before, but one that she loved anyway.

That next morning, after Constance had finished the dress, she put it on and came out where Will was already. Will didn't respond for a long time. Constance worried that she had done something wrong.

Then he smiled. "I can't even express how beautiful your dress is."

"Wonderful," she said, spinning around to show off the skirt.

He agreed. "Wonderful." He held out her arm to her. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, walking the few steps to him and taking his arm.

Although maybe Spindlewood was prettier during the night, Constance couldn't help but fall in love with the town even more with being there in the daytime. It wasn't as peaceful, or as quiet, but it was somehow just as wonderful.

Constance still held onto Will's arm as they walked through the town. She was memorizing every detail again, for the second time, because even if things were technically the same, they still looked and felt so different in a different light.

Neither of them headed back home until the town was starting to close themselves away for the night.

"Can we come back tomorrow?" she asked. It had felt so magical so...

Wonderful.

"If you'd like," Will nodded.

"I would. I really would."

Constance then launched into talking about her favorite parts (and she had quite a lot). She went on talking the entire night. Will never once interrupted her, and she never thought to wonder why.

Over time, they went back into Spindlewood more often and began to interact with the townspeople, Constance more so than Will. She got to know almost the entire town by name and managed to remember anything she'd been told about them. Remembering things was easy for her. It always had been. It was more the learning that was difficult, but once she learned something, she never could forget it.

Which felt so very weird, since something felt like it was missing. Something always felt like it was missing.

She still didn’t have any clue what it could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact because of the chapter title: I watched Anastasia last night and it was so beautiful I can't even express.  
> (I fangirled waaaaaay too much over it)


	8. A Light in the Dark

As more time passed, she found that there was another aspect of life that she didn't understand. Something that she'd never been taught. Something that was apparently a natural part of life, but it wasn't something that she'd ever learned about, even in the stories she'd read.

Death.

In her stories, there was death. There was a lot of it, in fact, but nothing like what she was starting to see with the people of Spindlewood. She'd read about death from 'unnatural' causes, but not like this.

She didn't know what this was. She didn't know how to feel. she only knew that it hurt.

She.. didn't understand, to say the least. She wanted to. She wanted to know why some people, like them, could live to continue to live while others died.

"How does it work?" she asked, staring down at her hands in her lap.

"How does what work?"

"Life and death. How do they work?"

Will hesitated.

"People are born, they grow, they experience life, they love, and they grow old. Eventually, they die. It's part of life. We're different. You weren't born the same way, you were built differently. You still live and... and love, but you don't grow old. Neither of us can. We can't die as they can."

Constance noticed his hesitation in the middle of his explanation but wasn't sure how to react to it.

"What about... time? How does time work?"

"Time.. time ticks on, through anything and everything. It's... constant. Time can't stop for someone, no matter who they are. No matter how important they are to someone."

"Then why doesn't time affect us?" She could finally bring herself to look at him and meet his eyes. "Why?"

"Because... because everything else is trapped inside time, but we're outside of it. Time changes and preserves and eventually kills everyone else, but not us. We're outside of it."

She looked back down at her lap, unable to speak anymore. She didn't know what to say. She didn't even know how to begin to express her innermost thoughts and feelings at the moment. She couldn't find the words to describe the pain she still felt.

"Constance," Will urged quietly, in the tone that he always used when Constance was feeling down. "You can talk to me."

She knew she could. She wanted to talk to him, she wished that she could, but she couldn't. She didn't know how.

"I can help you through this."

Constance shook her head. "I don't know if anyone can really help."

"Constance, I've lost people before. I've lost people I'm close to. And I keep living on. It's our curse and our blessing. If anyone can understand, I can."

She still couldn't respond. She couldn't find the right way.

"I'm not trying to undermine your pain—"

"Undermine? " that was a word she hadn't heard before.

"It means to lessen the power of something, in this case, to make you feel like the pain you feel doesn't matter."

"Oh."

There were another few beats of silence between them before Will began again. "I'm not trying to make you feel like you don't deserve to mourn, I just don't want you to go through it alone. I can help, if you'll let me."

She still didn't know how to respond, and she couldn't yet bring herself to look at him, to see the pleading and worried look on his face that she knew was there.

"Constance—" he tried again.

Without thoroughly thinking this through, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn't know where this came from. She only knew that if words couldn't describe what she wanted, or what she needed, maybe something else could.

Things started to feel right when he wrapped his arms around her, seeming to understand what she needed. He just held her, for a long time.

But no matter how long they stayed like that, Constance knew it would not be long enough.

For a long time, Constance didn't dare to go into town again. She knew that if she did, she'd make the same mistake again. She'd become close with the new generation of townspeople, and then she'd lose them too.

She didn't want to get hurt like that again.

Constance hardly even left the house for a very long time. She couldn't. It would hurt too much.

But she didn't like what she was starting to become either. She wished... she wished things could go back to the way they were before when she and Will could just play music for what felt like forever, and everything felt right.

Constance was sitting alone, curled up tightly when Will sat down beside her, not saying a word, just looking at her. She didn't acknowledge that he was even there. She didn't know how to find the right words.

Will, after a while, began to speak.

"I know you're afraid of losing someone, but you can't go on like this," he said gently, in the tone that Constance had heard quite a lot recently. "Losing someone is terrible, especially if you're really close to that someone, and even more for us. But the thing is, you can't go on like this. You can't just... lock yourself away and pretend like everything's fine, because it's not. You have to make your own choices, take risks, and sometimes get hurt. That's while living is all about. Everyone is going to lose people, it sucks, I know, and we're going to lose even more than anyone else, but you can't just do this, Constance. You're protecting yourself from getting hurt, but it's not helping like you think it is. I guess, what I'm saying is, you can't lose yourself..." he trailed off for a moment. "No matter what happened," he continued, "you have to promise me that you won't lose yourself, ever."

After a few seconds of silence, Constance finally turned to face him. "I... I don't know what was happening," she whimpered. "I don't like this... this pain. It feels bad. It, it hurts."

Will nodded sympathetically. "I know it hurts. A lot of things hurt, and sometimes the pain doesn't really go away. You have to just.. carry on, I guess. Maybe you can't forget, and maybe you shouldn't, but you can't let anything like that pull you down forever."

Constance just gazed at Will for a while, unable to respond.

"If you want to talk," he eventually began again, "you can always talk to me. I'm always here."

Constance considered that for a moment, then shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it right now. She didn't really want to talk about anything right now.

"No talk," she decided, "just... just be with me." Will put his arm around her as she leaned into his side. It felt right again. Not exactly a 'happy' kind of right, like when they played music, but still right.


	9. The Dance

Will's words and his comfort had helped Constance quite a lot. Eventually, she gathered the courage to go out in town again, but she didn't want to go alone. Will was happy to come with her whenever she asked. She wasn't quite brave enough or ready enough to get as close to the townspeople.

She didn't think she'd ever be ready for that again.

Not long later, the two of them were sitting together, but working separately, when Will spontaneously asked, "Would you like to dance?"

She looked up at him. That word seemed familiar, as if she'd read it before, but never really understood what it meant.

"Dance? What is dance?"

"It's just a fun thing to do with someone," he explained. He stood up and reached out his hand to her.

"Come, I'll teach you."

Constance was intrigued. Dancing sounded fun, and if it meant being closer to Will, then it was well worth the discovery. She took his hand and pulled herself up. Will pulled her closer than she had been expecting, taking one of her hands and setting it on his shoulder, still holding on to her other hand, then laid his other hand at her waist.

She hadn't exactly been prepared for that, but after the initial shock wore off, she found that she didn't mind just how close they were.

Will seemed to hesitate for just a moment before beginning to teach her.

"This is how you begin, and this," he began walking through the steps, Constance clumsily following him, "is called a waltz. First, you step backward and me forward, just follow my lead." Constance managed to copy his movements and completely the first step, focusing on her feet instead of looking up at him as he instructed her. "And now you step to the side, the other side," he corrected when Constance started going the wrong way. "And now you close your feet together, like so." She managed to complete the third step fine as well. "That's the first part, now we do it backward. You step forward, to the other side, and close your feet together. Yes! You're getting it!"

She looked up and smiled a dazed smile at him. "That's not so hard."

Will nodded. "It's quite fun to dance when you have someone to dance with. Now, a waltz is done in three beats, three-four time." She could do this. She knew the time signature. "Once," they did the first step, "two," the second, "three," and the third. "Now backward, one, two three. Yes!"

"Fun." She looked back up at him again after concentrating on her feet during the steps.

"Yes, fun."

Will led Constance through the steps a few more times until Constance was getting more com more comfortable with it.

"How about we try it with some music?"

Constance nodded, then Will let go of her. He crossed the room and started a slow song playing a slow song in three-four time.

Will walked back over to her quickly and they resumed their positions. Then, when Will found a good entrance in the music, they started going through the steps again. This was certainly faster than before, they had practiced, but not so hard.

Will mumbled the "one, two three, one two three," under his breath as they danced along to the music.

Constance stumbled a few times, but they did manage to get back on rather quickly.

As the song was reaching its conclusion, Will steered away from what he had taught and spun Constance around, her skirt twirling out around her. She certainly hadn't been expecting this, but she found she enjoyed it.

She was in Will's arms again as the song faded out.

She found herself looking down at her feet again, unsure of what might happen if she were to look up. She could feel Will's gaze on her as his grip on her waist loosened.

Then she looked up and met his eyes. Still, neither could pull away. Constance wasn't sure if she could pull away at this moment if she had tried.

Will seemed to want to speak, but he didn't seem to be able to. Constance felt the same. She leaned forward, not completely sure of what she was doing. She closed her eyes almost completely as she continued to lean in closer.

Then she stopped. She pulled back, not completely sure of what had just happened, or not happened, but knowing that she wasn't prepared for it, then freed herself from Will's grasp and dashed out of the room in and into her own, sinking down against her door after locking it behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene in A Quirk in the Machinery is one of my favorite scenes I've ever written, so it was certainly a pleasure to write it again from Constance's perspective!


	10. Make it Right

What was she thinking? She wasn’t, that was the answer. She couldn’t just _do_ things like that. Especially with no warning, just like what had happened.

Or didn’t happen.

Nearly happened?

Constance wasn’t sure anymore.

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since she’d pulled away.

Everything felt wrong and Constance had never felt more confused.

She had felt something, something strange, something new, something she didn’t understand, back there.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, it even felt like a good one, but it was new, and so it was scary.

And so she ran. She ran from what was different because she didn’t know how to handle it.

And now she was hiding from it too.

Will was at her door now, desperately calling out to her.

"Constance, please, we have to talk," he begged, but Constance wasn't ready for that. She couldn't even respond to that.

He kept pleading for her to talk to him for a long time but eventually stopped. Constance knew this didn't mean he had gone away. She knew him well enough to know that he was still there, waiting, likely right outside of her door.

A long time later, Constance knew she had to go out. It had been nearly too long since she was last wound, and she couldn't wait any longer.

She reluctantly opened the door, and came out into the hall, keeping her back turned to him. "Will you wind me, please?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Will stand, but she didn't move to wind her.

"We need to talk first."

"You need to wind me," she retorted.

"Constance, something happened back he there."

"And it doesn't matter," she insisted, growing very tired of this situation. "Now would you please wind me?"

"Constance—"

"No, stop." She turned around to face him, thoroughly fed up with this. "You're trying to force me to talk to you about... about _that_ , but I don't want to. You think refusing to wind me unless we do will work, and you're right. You always say that you understand me, but you don't. You don't know what it feels like to be completely dependent on someone else. You don't know what it feels like to be completely helpless, like I am. Now could you please wind me?" She turned back around, closing her eyes as to not see his expression out of the corner of her vision. 

A few seconds passed, and then Will wordlessly wound her.

_Thank you._

She went back into her room and locked herself in once more.

Now she had to figure out what to do about what had happened between them.

She was feeling things, she knew that, but she still didn't know what these 'things' were. She didn't know what to call them.

She knew logically that she had never felt like this before. She couldn't ever remember feeling like the way she did, and yet, something felt familiar. 

Something always felt familiar about things that she hadn't seen, or heard, or felt, or known before.

And she didn't know why.

She couldn't remember ever feeling confused like she was now. She couldn't remember feeling so lost, and even so afraid.

And yet none of it really felt new.

Something was missing, a part of her, maybe. Perhaps even a lot of her. Something was missing from her memories, but she didn't know how to find it.

But maybe, just maybe, if she could find what was missing, solve the puzzle to get to the answer, everything would make sense of itself, and she could understand what had very nearly happened between her and Will.

She had to solve this riddle. She wasn't sure how, but she knew that now she had no other choice but to find the answer. Whatever that may be.

A short while later, Constance had gathered the courage to go back out and talk to Will.

"I don't know what happened... between us... and I don't know what to do about it yet," she began slowly. She probably should have worked out what she was doing to say beforehand, but it was too late now. She had to keep going. "I just don't what it, whatever it is, to change anything between us. I... I want to figure out what that is before we try to talk about it. Is that alright?"

Will nodded, agreeing immediately. Constance noticed him moving to reach for her hand but stopping himself.

"If you want anything, anything at all, please talk to me," he offered.

"I will, thank you."

That went better than she had thought it would.

Now all that was left was to figure out what she was missing.

Easy, right?


	11. Pursue the Truth

Wrong.

It proved to be immensely difficult to solve this puzzle. If she didn’t even know what she was missing, how was she supposed to find it?

All she knew was that nothing was making sense. At all.

She didn't know how to keep going, how to keep pretending that everything was alright when she knew that she was missing something, possibly a really big thing.

She didn't want to keep going on like this. Everything before had been so great, so... wonderful...

But now, everything seemed to have gone wrong, and Constance didn't know how to make it better again.

If she could only figure out what she was missing.

But she'd tried everything she could think of, and none of it had helped at all. Nothing was helping. Nothing could help, from what it seemed.

Since she couldn't come up with anything else, Constance was going to just give up. Maybe she didn't need to find what she was missing to figure out what was happening. She came out of her room, and into the empty al hallway, and just as she was going to head back out to find Will, her gaze drifted down to the end of the hall.

To the door at the end of the hall.

A long time ago, Constance had first opened that door and saw what was inside. Since then, she had tried to forget about what it was that she had found. There was a kind of off-feeling to the room. She hadn't thought that she wanted to deal with what was inside, so she had tried to forget. It... hadn't worked, to put it simply.

She couldn't forget anything, for some reason. It likely had to do with how she was built, but she wasn't exactly sure how that had come about either.

It was extra strange for this to happen, for her to feel that someone thing was missing. To know for certain that something was missing.

Something told her that she'd find out what she was missing with the help of the objects behind the door. She'd felt that for a long time now and she had tried to ignore it, but she was running out of other options.

She had no other choice now.

She walked down the hall and opened the door, pausing for only a moment before she started to grab the items and haul them back to her room.

She closed the door behind her, beginning to lay the items out in her room. They seemed to be just a random array, but they still felt connected. Somehow.

Maybe, if she could only find the correct order, the answers to her questions might reveal themselves.

Constance looked at the items, studying each one to see just how it might n connect with the others. She felt that something was missing from it, like there was supposed to be another item with them.

She went back into the closet and checked to make sure that she hadn't missed anything, but the closet was empty. She'd cleared it out completely.

Unsure of where else she could look, she began to wander around. Her only plan at the moment was to wander around until she found something that felt right, no matter how long it took.

Her feet seemed to lead her to the main room, where Will was writing, as he usually was. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. She walked over to it and tried to find the one that felt like it would fit.

That was when Will noticed her.

"Haven't you read all those already?" he asked, glancing up from his writing.

Constance nodded, not turning around to look at him, but she could still feel his gaze on her. "I just... felt like reading one again."

She winced internally. Words crosser her mind, words that she had never heard before.

_"Are we lying to each other now?"_

The words felt so clear and familiar, as did the voice that spoke them. She didn't know where it had come from, not yet, but she was determined to find out.

One of the books seemed to stand out from the rest as she turned her attention back to the task at hand. Without a second thought, Constance grabbed the book and retreated back to her room, placing the book with the rest of the array.

She surveyed them once again. They still didn't seem to be connected, at all, even with the book added. In fact, the addition of the book seemed to cause everything to make even less sense than before.

Unsure of what she was doing or why, she picked up one of the dresses and placed it on the end of one end of her room the right end of her room. She remembered wearing that dress when everything began, and if what she suspected was true, it would have to be at the end.

Constance looked back at the remaining items, which was still quite a lot. She didn't even have a starting point, how was she supposed to arrange all these items correctly?

She picked up the tools, saying to herself, "Tools make things, and when something is built, it's new. When something is new, it's the start of a new story, it's a beginning, so maybe the tools would go first." She moved them to the far left side of her room. Now she had a tentative beginning and an end.

But what came next?

"Maybe," she whispered to herself, "maybe the picture. It's a picture of a child is at the beginning of their life, right?"

Who was she even talking to? It felt like she was asking someone or something that was in the room, but she was alone.

And yet, it felt natural.

She shook her head. This whole ordeal was messing with her mind.

The reasoning of the picture sounded like good reasoning, so she carefully placed the picture down beside the tools.

"Now what?" she asked, once again to the empty room.

Constance went through each of the items and placed them in an order that made sense logically.

But none of it really _felt_ right.

Constance continued to arrange and rearrange the items in all sorts of orders, some that made sense, some that didn't, and none that felt right.

She arranged and rearranged the items objects so many times that she was hardly sure what she was doing anymore. She had to step away from the array to try to puzzle out what she wanted. Really wanted.

She closed her eyes and talked to herself—or whatever she was talking to before—to think things through.

"What do you want?" she asked with her eyes shut tight. "What are you trying to do?"

She opened her eyes and paced the room as she tried to figure out what she wanted.

"I want to find the answer to this question, to this puzzle," she eventually decided. "I want to know the truth."

But she couldn't find the truth through logic and reasoning. It had to feel right.

So she started again.


	12. Before After

The tools at the beginning still felt vaguely right, so she kept them where they were and moved on to the next part.

Since thinking things through hadn't worked out in her favor before, she stopped trying to think this through.

Instead, she attempted to 'shut off' her brain and just pick whatever seemed to feel right.

Maybe working with what she had done to find the book, just following a hidden feeling that would lead her to the right answer.

She closed her eyes and reached out her hands to grab the right one.

It didn't exactly work like that, since she lost her balance and very nearly fell, so maybe trying something slightly different would work better.

She brought all the objects close together, save for the tools, which were already in their right spot—as far as she was aware. Then, making sure that she wouldn't lose her balance this time, she closed her eyes and reached into the array, certain that whatever she grabbed out would be the right thing.

She ended up with the book in her hands.

Without a second thought, she stood up and walked it over to the left side of her room, placing it beside the tools, then moving back to the pile of everything else to start the process again.

The next thing she grabbed was the clock. She placed it beside the book and reached in again, this time grabbing one of the dresses, the one with the white top, brown corset, and lighter brown skirt. The next thing was the white satin, which she knew went with the pink satin and pale blue gems, then the brown and teal dress, the other, more common fabrics, the dress she remembered wearing, and the picture. She ended up with the grey hat in her hands as she moved to place it at the far right side of her room as the final object. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking through everything again, and quite possibly overthinking it as well.

This was what she wanted. She knew it was.

Constance looked back at the order that she had placed the items in, mindlessly stepping back to get a better, more complete view.

She wasn't paying attention to her steps, and so she tripped on something that she hadn't seen behind her, crashing to the floor and making quite a ruckus.

Instead of standing up again, she simply just looked at the order array from her new position.

Nothing happened. She'd done it right, and nothing happened.

_Why wasn't it working?_

There was a knock at the door, Will must have heard her, though that didn't exactly come as a surprise. The crash had been quite loud.

"Constance?" he called, slight panic in his voice. "What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing," she insisted, knowing full well that she sounded just as panicked, but unable to make herself sound calmer.

It wasn't working. She had arranged it all correctly, not thinking about it and just going with what she felt—these strange feelings had been leading her to this all along—and it still wasn't working.

"Can I come in?" Will persisted.

"There's no need for that!"

There was an empty space. Something else was missing. She counted the objects again quickly. She had them all.

What could she be forgetting?

It wasn't making sense, everything felt like it was in its correct place, but still, something was missing.

And she didn't exactly have a lot of time to figure out what.

"Constance, I'm coming inside."

"No, you don't need to!" she tried, but it was too late. He had already opened the door and stepped inside.

Will stopped after only a few steps inside. He now stood in front of her, only a step away from the array of objects.

He turned back around to face her after he seemed to study the object for a moment. "What'd going on?"

"I fell, that's all." It wasn't a lie, but it still felt just as bad as one. "I'm fine."

His eyes flickered back to the objects before landing on her again. "What are you doing in here?"

"It doesn't matter," she insisted, finally standing up and trying to herd him out of her room.

It wasn't working. Will refused to move from where he stood. That wasn't good.

"What really happened?"

Constance n stopped, but it wasn't the persistent questions that made her stop.

It was something else, something that she could never have guessed.

The missing piece.

"I fell, I already told you—"

She didn't get to finish her thought. Constance felt a sharp pain in her head, falling forward with the shock. She cried out and clutched at her head, barely noticing the fact that Will had caught her.

The missing piece. She now knew what—or who it was.

Will.

He was what she was missing, the final piece to solving the puzzle.

He stood in front of the array, right in the correct place.

Now, as she had connected all the pieces to solve the puzzle, she had unlocked a flood of memories.

This was what she wanted, right? To know what she was missing.

But she hadn't expected it to _hurt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is heavily inspired by the song "Before After" from the musical "Before After" (as you can tell from the chapter title). I know like, 12% of the plot of the musical but it's Hadley, soo...  
> but like really. Go and listen to this song. Hadley Fraser is just top-notch in this musical, this song especially (no joke I listened to this song like 20 times this week)


	13. Journey to the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is just a re-telling of the actual story as if Constance is seeing it all play out again. It includes the exact dialogue (to an extent) from the concert (it was literally just an excuse to watch it again), so it's a very long chapter (at least compared to the other chapters in this fic). If you know the story, you can definitely skip this chapter, but there are certain parts that aren't completely in the story, just small headcanons that I included that didn't change the story at all. It's up to you if you want to read it

_With a start, she was awake. She heard… things. New things. Everything was new. Everything was unfamiliar._

_But she wasn’t alone._

_There was someone… a man, with her._

_She learned things quickly, including learning that she was called “Constance.” She found she liked that name. She liked a lot of things, but she didn’t like being forced to stay inside._

_Her only view of the world were stories. She liked stories. She liked her view out of the windows._

_She wanted to see more. She wanted to see what was outside the windows. She wanted her own story. A “once upon a time” and a “happily ever after.” She wanted to experience what life was like outside, but Abraham had forbidden it. She couldn’t do anything that Abraham had forbidden, as much as she desperately wanted to._

_But then Abraham went out. He left the house, so why shouldn’t she?_

_“This will be our little secret,” she said to the clock that she had taken to talking to. “Not a word.”_

_Then she left. She left the house and went into town, one slow step at a time._

_It was so beautiful, so welcoming. So… wonderful._

_The next while was a blur. There was so much happening all around her that she didn’t notice where she was going until she knocked into someone, causing that someone to drop what they were holding into the mud._

_Constance ran immediately, unsure of what else she could do._

_She felt bad for breaking Abraham’s rules, and she felt even worse for what had happened with that lady back there._

_Maybe… she could make it right._

_Constance didn’t know what she was doing. She was led by some sort of… instinct, as if she was built with the knowledge of how to do this._

_She wrapped up her creation, a new and improved dress to replace the one she had ruined and left the house again to deliver it._

_It was late. Past midnight, even, and yet, she wasn’t the only one out and about in the town._

_There was someone else, a boy. She ran into him while trying to find where to deliver the dress._

_“You, you’re the girl! The girl from the square!”_

_“Uhm, yes,” she said uncertainly. She asked him if she was in the right place._

_“What?” he replied after a beat of silence._

_“I have a dress. I made it, for the lady.”_

_“Amelia. You know, she’s been very upset.”_

_“Yes.” She knew. She hadn’t been able to think about anything else._

_“But, wait, you made that, today?”_

_“Yes, where shall I leave it?” she held the package out to him. He took it, glancing around for a moment before leaving it on a doorstep. He knocked on the door._

_“Come on,” he said, then both of them ran until they were out of sight._

_The two of them watched from afar as the door opened and as the very person Constance had made it for opened the package to see what was inside. When they had gone back outside, Constance and the boy ran further away. Constance followed him as he ran out of town._

_“Did you see her face?” Constance laughed. “Wasn’t that just the best thing?” She stopped. She’d been out too long. “I have to go.”_

_“Already?” the boy asked._

_“I shouldn’t be here, if Abraham knew that—”_

_“Wait, wait, Abraham? The clockmaker?”_

_“Yes, he’d be very upset.”_

_“You live with Abraham?” He sounded surprised. Why did he sound surprised?_

_“Yes,” she said softly._

_“Wait, I don’t even know your name.”_

_“Constance. I’m, uh, Constance.”_

_“Constance,” he repeated. “William Riley pleased to meet ya.” He held out his hand to her. She tentatively reached out, shaking his hand._

_Her gaze was drawn out towards the countryside and the night sky._

_“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He seemed to be able to guess exactly what she was thinking._

_“Yes.” It truly was. It was so much better than Constance could have even imagined._

_“I come here every night,” he told her, “just to get away for a while, you know?”_

_“Yes,” she guessed, probably not sounding very sure of herself._

_“So, you don’t get out much, do you?”_

_“Twice,” she said slowly. “Exactly twice.”_

_“What?” He sounded confused._

_“I, uh, I really have to go.”_

_“But we just got here!” he protested. Constance didn’t want to leave either, but she knew that she had to get back._

_“I only meant to leave the dress. Sorry.” She turned and started back home._

_“Night, then.”_

_Constance left Will standing there in the darkness and beauty of the night. She wasn’t sure what this new… feeling was, but she liked it. Quite a lot._

_She finally felt… alive._

_It was so new and so strange, this exhilaration, but it was also so wonderful._

_She was in a daze for quite a while, until Abraham came home later that same day._

_“You’ve been out.”_

_He knew. How did he know?_

_“One thing. I ask one thing of you Constance, and you ignore it.”_

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you—”_

_“To find out? Is that it?” He was angry. “Are we lying to each other now?”_

_Constance couldn’t respond to that._

_“I’m trying to protect you. To protect what we have. All that you are, that you were made to be, they wouldn’t understand, Constance. You’re not part of their world.”_

_“Why shouldn’t I be? Why can’t I be? I did something, for that lady last night. Something good, something kind. Everything I do is done by what you showed me, Abraham. How you taught me to be.”_

_“You disobeyed me.” He stopped for a moment before he resumed again. “Look, I’m sorry, but this is for your own good. They will never understand you. They will never accept you. They will never love you, as I do.”_

_Abraham stormed out to another part of the house, leaving Constance feeling dejected as she turned to talking to the clock for comfort again._

_“He’s wrong, Clock. I know he’s wrong. He has to be.” She turned away. “You do believe me, don’t you?”_

_It spoke back to her, saying her name, in what was likely meant to be a whisper._

_“Constance.”_

_She turned back around._

_“What did you say?”_

_“Psst! Constance!” it said again._

_“Oh Clock!” she exclaimed, walking back towards it. “You spoke out loud! How wonderful!”_

_“Open the window!”_

_She backed up, confused. “Window?”_

_And then suddenly Will was there._

_“Will?” she backed up further._

_Oh. Maybe Clock hadn’t spoken out loud._

_For a moment she was glad that Will was here, but then she realized what could happen from it. He couldn’t be here. If Abraham saw…_

_“You’ve got to come, the whole town’s gone crazy!” Will exclaimed, motioning out the window that he had just broken in through. “Everyone’s talking about it—”_

_“You can’t be here,” she said hurriedly, trying to usher him out._

_“What?”_

_Inside, you really can’t be here, inside, at all, you mustn’t”_

_“You’re invited!” he said, not listening to her warnings._

_“What?”_

_“Amelia, she’s invited you, well, she’s invited the seamstress and that’s you so yeah, you!” He made large motions back out to the town. “Guest of honor at the wedding, will you come?” He rubbed his hands together, a look of excitement on his face. When she didn’t reply, he continued. “Everyone’s been talking about you. My Ma has been particularly dramatic.”_

_“Your Ma?”_

_“Yes, yes, but don’t worry about her. She barks, a lot, but that’s about it. You’ve got to come.”_

_“Will, I-I can’t.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Abraham, he was just—"_

_“Constance, do you believe in fate?”_

_“What?”_

_“Fate,” he repeated. “That no matter what we do or how we try to do it, some things are set, certain, unchangeable.”_

_“I-I don’t know.”_

_“I’ve been here my whole life, and it’s always been the same. Day in and day out, like, like I’m stuck in a big wheel the just keeps turning and turning with nowhere to go, do you ever get that feeling?”_

_“Always.”_

_“Well, look at what’s happened since you made that dress. It’s a good thing, Constance. You can’t go through life letting people tell you what to do or who you are, I don’t. And have you met my mother?”_

_She hadn’t, but she laughed anyway._

_“But the point is, fate is boring, it’s dull. You have to make your own choices.”_

_“W-what would I have to do?”_

_“What?”_

_“Do I, need anything?”_

_“Well,” he guessed, “do you have a nice dress?”_

_“I can make one.”_

_He laughed. “In three hours?”_

_“Yes?” He sounded like he didn’t believe her._

_“By yourself?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Alright.”_

_“Anything else?”_

_He shook his head. “No.”_

_“Then I’ll come.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes,” she laughed. “Now go.”_

_Things were finally working. Things finally felt… good. Wonderful._

_Constance started to work immediately on her dress. She knew she could complete it in time, she just didn’t know if it would be good enough. It had to be good enough._

_Although she had no image in mind as she created the dress, the final product ended up even better than she had hoped._

_It shared a lot of basic traits with the wedding dress she had made but was still very different. It was dark brown, mostly, with stripes of teal around her shoulders, waist, and the hem of the dress. Constance didn’t have a favorite color—they were all so beautiful, how could she pick?—but she loved the color teal and how it looked, especially with the dark brown that she enjoyed wearing._

_Constance put on the dress, looking in a mirror to see how it looked on her._

_It looked... good, she supposed._

_But it didn't seem quite right. Something seemed to be missing. She glanced around, her eyes landing on the remnants of the teal fabric she had used to make this dress. She could add something to her appearance..._

_Constance didn't like having her hair done up, or anything more ta than down her back. It was something to do with covering the keyhole in her back, but she also always wore dresses that covered it, so it didn't exactly make sense. She didn't understand why she had to keep it covered, but something inside of her always warned her to do so._

_But maybe, as this was a very special occasion, she should do something a little more than usual._

_She took the fabric, cutting out an appropriately sized piece, and trying to figure out what she could even do. She ended up just tying her hair back, but, enough that it was different, but while also continuing to cover the keyhole._

_She looked in the mirror again. Everything looked fine._

_Now all that was left was to gather up her courage and to leave._

_She closed her eyes, needing to convince herself that what she was doing wasn't wrong, that she wasn't doing before a bad person by disobeying Abraham again._

_Constance opened her eyes._

_She was ready._

_Without giving herself another moment to doubt what she was doing, she left the house and headed back towards the town, where the wedding was being held._

_She was late, by quite a lot. The whole gathering seemed to quiet when she entered. She felt as if every eye was on her, and perhaps they were. It was scary, to say the least._

_"I'm so glad you came," a warm voice said to her. Constance smiled shyly. She recognized the lady and the dress she wore. This was the bride, Constance knew that. It took a moment, but soon, the woman seemed to realize just who Constance was._

_“It’s a perfect fit,” she smiled. “We haven’t even met. Well, not officially. What’s your name?”_

_“Constance.”_

_“Amelia.”_

_“I’m very pleased to meet you.”_

_Constance and Amelia became close friends after that. Amelia forgave her for accidentally ruining the first dress., which Constance had been quite nervous about._

_As time passed, Constance became more well known by the town, as well as her getting to know the people in town even more. Spindlewood was a small town, full of kind and friendly people. Qui Rather quickly, Constance had made a dress for all the women in town, never accepting payment for it. She didn't completely understand how 'money' worked, but she knew that she didn't need it. She just thought everyone deserved something pretty to wear, and she could help to provide it._

_Things were going well just like that for a long time._

_Then a man came, from the city._

_Henry, Amelia’s husband and the son of the mayor, introduced him._

_“Constance,” Henry began after greeting his wife, “this is Mr. Reece. He’s been looking for you.”_

_“Hello,” she said uncertainly._

_“Not ‘Reece and Bailey’ Mr. Reece?” Amelia asked, saving Constance from the embarrassment of not knowing what to say._

_“Ah, for my sins, yes,” the man replied. “I’m very pleased to meet you. Constance, is it?”_

_“Yes.” She wondered why Mr. Reece needed to ask her since Henry had just said her name. She assumed it was something that… people did._

_“You're wearing the finest work I've ever seen,” he knelt down at looked at the hem of Constance’s dress. The one she was wearing was by far her favorite of the dresses she’d made for herself. Dark brown and gold, which was possibly her favorite color to wear, but she still loved all colors equally. “My head seamstress just quit, I'm looking for a replacement. The job's yours if you want it, Henry has my details.” Mr. Reece motioned to Henry, who stood slightly behind him._

_“I do,” Henry chimed in._

_“Of course,” Mr. Reece resumed, “I'll have to look into accommodation and—"_

_“Accommodation?” she asked. She didn’t know if she’d been taught that word before._

_“In the city. I take it you're interested?”_

_“Oh yes!” she exclaimed. “But I must speak to Abraham.”_

_“Right now?” Amelia asked with a bit of a laugh in her voice._

_“Yes!”_

_“Constance, I'm sure Mr. Reese has come a very long way—"_

_“Not to worry, Mrs. Glynn, she can take a little time.”_

_Constance ran back home, overjoyed with the news and bursting to tell Abraham._

_“Abraham, Abraham, I have news! This famous Mr. Reece. He, well, he offered me a job, a real job. He wants to arrange for me to go, with accommodation—”_

_“No.”_

_“Please, Abraham.”_

_“No.”_

_“Please, let’s not do this again.”_

_“I said no. Constance, you asked me, I said no.”_

_“Abraham—”_

_“I said no!”_

_“Why?”_

_“You can’t, Constance.”_

_“What?”_

_“Not without letting your friends see you for what you really are. Not without showing them that you’re not like them. Don’t you see that?”_

_She turned her back you him. “Would you wind me, please?”_

_“So you can go out.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Then no.”_

_“If you loved me, you’d let me go.”_

_“It’s because I love you, Constance, that I can’t.”_

_She left again, despite Abraham's refusal to wind her. She went outside of town, by the brooke, to the very place that Will had taken her the first night they had met._

_"Oh, I see," she heard a familiar voice speak from behind her. "Show a girl a perfectly good, quiet spot, and next thing you know, she's gone and moved in."_

_"Sorry, Will," she told him._

_"From what I’ve heard, you should be grinning from ear to ear about now,"_

_"Who told you?"_

_"Amelia did! Who'd you think? What’s the matter with you?"_

_“I can’t go.”_

_“What? Why not?”_

_“Abraham won’t let me.”_

_“Oh, well, that’s that then, isn’t it?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“No, not yes! Are you serious? Listen, I know the man looks after you and all, but you can’t stay hidden away, Constance. Not with things like this on the table. Come on, don’t you want to go?”_

_“Of course I do—”_

_“Then what? What is it? What can I do?”_

_“You can’t.”_

_“What are you not telling me? Ask me, Constance. Task me anything. Tell me, Constance. Tell me what it is you need. Tell me. How can I help, if I don’t know the cause? I’m yours to dispose of, don’t throw me away. Say something. I don’t know what to say, so say something, anything. Say something.”_

_“I can’t, I can’t, Will, please don’t ask. If I told you things would never be the same. Nothing ever changes, and that’s alright, if nothing every changes…”_

_If nothing ever changed, things would stay the way they were. Things could be as they had been, as wonderful as that had been._

_"Constance," he said just as she said "Will."_

_"Ah, sorry," he apologized._

_"No, you first."_

_"Look, you don't have to tell me, but, chances like this... they don't come every day. It's the city! You couldn't ask for a better opportunity to show the world who you are, what you're made of!"_

If only you knew _, she thought._

_"Don't let it pass you by, because it might not come again. We only get so much time, you've got to use it, otherwise, well, otherwise you might as well just—"_

_"Just be a clock," she said sadly. He didn't seem to pick up on her tone._

_"Yes! Just counting down the minutes until you stop. And, I suppose, all that's the reason I wanted to tell you. What I mean is, is that I... I..."_

_"I have to go."_

_She was running out of time. Constance dashed away, leaving Will behind her and trying to avoid thinking about what he must be thinking right now. She ran through the town back home, since it was faster, but she was too slow._

_She ran out of time in the square._

_The next thing she knew was falling forward, only barely managing to regain her balance in time. She was surrounded by the townspeople, all of them with some expression of fear or confusion. She turned around and saw Will. His expression wasn't of fear, nor was it of confusion. No, his expression was much more painful._

_He looked hurt and betrayed._

_She couldn't handle this. Constance broke through the circle of people surrounding her and ran the rest of the way home._

_“I’m sorry, Constance,” Abraham said._

_“Go away.”_

_“I tried to tell you how it would be. It wasn’t fair to let you hope.”_

_“How is this better? You swore, you promised that I would never feel this. And you, it was you—”_

_“No, Constance! It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. If it had happened here, no one would know. You insisted on leaving!” His tone turned softer. “You, you are a marvel, Constance, a marvel. But they will never see past difference. I couldn’t let you keep believing that they will.”_

_“They can, Abraham, they can.” She knew that they could._

_“Then where are they? Where are they if they care? Where are they if they truly care for you? I care, Constance. I care more than you know.”_

_Constance wanted to turn away. She didn’t want to keep speaking to him, but she stayed. She stayed because she knew that running would do no help._

_"I can keep us together. I can do it, Constance. I found a way."_

_He walked over to another part of the room, uncovering… a body. Like hers, but it was unfinished. Abraham had been creating a body, for himself._

_“I can be this, for you, Constance. We can be together, forever. Never-ending.”_

_She didn’t want that._

_“The boy, the boy won’t last.”_

_Will._

_“He’ll grow old, and eventually, he’ll die.”_

_“That doesn’t change a thing.”_

_“Oh, it does.” Abraham picked up a picture from his desk. A picture that Constance had seen many times. Abraham’s daughter. “It does. You don’t know”_

_“I love him.” It was the first time she had said it. She’d read about love, all kinds of love, but she hadn’t know that it was love she had felt. She hadn’t known._

_Until now._

_"Yes,” he replied. “Love me again, that's all I ask." Abraham looked down at the picture again. Constance could feel herself growing angrier whenever he looked at that picture._

_"But I am not her."_

_She retreated back into a different part of the house, not wanting to speak to Abraham right now._

_She isolated herself for a long time, all through the night. She didn’t dare to leave again, and she didn’t want to face Abraham again. She couldn’t._

_"Constance!" she heard a panicked voice yell. "Constance!"_

_She recognized the voice. She turned around, not quite believing what was happening._

_"Will?"_

_In the time that Constance internally celebrated and wondered what he was doing here, Will had made his way inside and was now standing in front of Constance. His face was lit up with a smile. He looked so happy that Constance almost didn’t notice his hand that was clutched at his side. But she did notice._

_"I love you,” he exclaimed. Constance was taken aback. Of anything, she hadn't expected that. She seemed to momentarily forget about everything else as she tried to process those three, seemingly simple words. “I love you!” he yelled it louder. He laughed and celebrated. “I love you, and I don’t care—” He let out a hissing breath, and Constance was really starting to worry. He came closer to her, one hand still clutched at his side. Constance took his arms, holding him close. “I-I don’t care, let’s just go. We can just—” another hissing breath._

_Constance then noticed the red on his side and hands. From what Constance had learned, it looked like blood. He had been trying to hide it from her._

_“What’s wrong, what’s happening?” She didn’t understand it. Constance was panicking._

_“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry—” he insisted. Constance let go when Abraham—who must have heard Will when he came in—came up behind Will, taking him by the shoulders and turning him around._

_“Will,” Abraham said, almost as a greeting._

_Will stepped back from him, going back towards Constance, who stood behind him, holding on desperately to his shoulder._

_“Give me the key,” Will ordered, his hand that wasn’t covering his wound reaching out towards Abraham, who placed his hand over his coat pocket where he kept the key, shaking his head. “Give me the key!” Will demanded, but Abraham still wouldn’t. “Look, they’ll come for her, you know they will,” he looked back at Constance, who had never felt more afraid, “and you can come if you want, but we, we are going, and I’m taking that key!”_

_With the last word, he doubled over again, falling into Abraham’s arms._

_“Will, what happened to him?” Constance cried._

_“He’s hurt,” Abraham told her._

_“How?”_

_“I don’t know—”_

_Abraham was holding onto Will’s shoulders, keeping him standing, but Will continued to push away from him._

_“It was, Ma, she was angry, but it doesn’t matter,” he turned to Abraham, clutching onto the man’s coat. “It doesn’t matter, because, we, we can just, we—”_

_“Yes,” Constance said weakly._

_Will looked to her,_

_“Yes,” she said again as Will broke away from Abraham and went to her._

_“Yes,” he echoed as Constance pulled him closer._

_“Yes, of course we will,” she told him, laying her hands on the sides of his face. “In a minute, we will. You just take a minute, to feel better.” She placed her hands on top of Will’s, trying to do whatever she could to help, but she didn't know what all she could do._

_Will smiled weakly at her. There was pain in his eyes. Constance knew it wasn’t just from the wound. He put one hand on the back of her head as he said, “I’m so sorry, Constance.”_

_“Everything, I knew, disappears, with you,” she sang quietly. He took her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “And I don’t know where you’re going,” he slipped off his hat, placing it into her hands, “but I’m going where you’ll be. Tomorrow’s waiting there—”_

_He was gone before Constance could finish. She clutched his hat to her chest, crying without being able to shed a tear._

_“He’s gone, Constance,” Abraham said delicately._

_“I know,” Constance replied. She knew he was gone. She knew that there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She knew that she would never see him again. She knew that she should never have learned to love, because it only brought pain. “And I can’t just make another one of him like you did.”_

_She didn't like this, not at all. She liked a lot of things, but not this. Not this pain._

_"All I needed was time, just time, just—"_

_"Constance—" he reached for her arm, but Constance pulled away._

_"Get away from me," she hissed. She didn't care what happened to her, not anymore. She didn't care if she became bent, broken, and ruined._

_From the beginning, Abraham had pretended to care, but he never really had, had he? He had said "are we lying to each other now?" but he was the one who told the lies. He only thought of what he wanted, and he still dared to claim that it was her fault. That all of this was her fault._

_So maybe he could blame her actions, maybe he had to, in order to keep his conscience clean._

_Abraham had created her to be clockwork, so that was all she would be. She'd be was what she was created to be and nothing more. Then he'd see what he'd done. Then he'd see that he had been wrong the whole time._

_"I'm not like you, and that's fine by me. Constant and static, part automatic, mostly unseen. If that's all you see."_

_"Constance, you are so much more than that—"_

_"Don't," she warned. He couldn't say that. Not after all that he'd done._

_Abraham had created her, given her all these things, and told her not to use them. She had been created to be a slave, but that wasn't what she was. She couldn't be a slave. She wasn't one._

_If she could move, why would she stay?_

_What was she ever meant to be besides what she was?_

_Abraham wanted her to dismiss everything she knew, everything she had learned._

_He had called her "Constance," and still demanded that she changed. He had built "a heart's desires" and still regretted how it behaved. He let her love him and decided that it wasn't the kind of love he wanted._

_Well, she'd be what she was created to be. She would be clockwork, because it seemed that was all she could be. It was all that she was supposed to be._

_"Abraham, open this door!" a voice yelled from outside._

_"A story of my own," she mumbled to herself. It was what she had always wanted, from the very beginning. She just wanted a "once upon a time" and a "happily ever after." Why was that so hard?_

_"Constance—" Abraham tried again, but Constance wouldn't listen._

_"A tale that I don't know..."_

_"What's happening?"_

_"A picture I'm a part of..." She headed towards the door, but Abraham blocked her. He kept her from what she wanted once again._

_"Constance, no!" he cried._

_"Move out of my way, Abraham! You can't keep me anymore! You talk about love, that's love!" she motioned back to where Will's body lay. "Brave, kind, selfless! " She took a step back. "Not like you! Let them come for me! I'm the girl, who took on the world, once, upon a—"_

_There was a loud bang, and everything stopped._


	14. Confrontation

Constance opened her eyes and let out a scream. She was back. Everything still hurt, but it was all so much clearer. She was still in Will’s arms, but she scrambled out to the floor.

All of that, everything she remembered, it all came back in a flash. She had seen it as if it was a story playing out as she watched it, but it happened so quickly. Within minutes.

“I… I remember,” she said slowly. “I remember it all.” She could feel herself smiling. It felt good to know the answer, to know the truth of what had happened.

She stopped smiling when she met Will’s gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Constance—”

“All this time, you knew all along, and you never told me. I thought you made that story up! Why didn’t you tell me?” she yelled.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, but Constance didn’t know if she should believe him. “I just didn’t know if it would matter. If you never remembered, why would you want to know and be burdened by that knowledge?”

“You lied to me, this whole time!” she accused. “Was anything that you taught me even real? Did any of it even matter? Were you just going to start over and pretend that everything I—we went through never happened?”

“Constance, it was real—” he tried.

“I thought you were dead, Will, and you just try to pretend that none of that even happened! It did happen, and I haven’t moved past that! I can’t move past that!” She stood up and started to stumble towards the door and out of the room, one hand clutching at her forehead. “I need to think.”

“Constance, please don’t push me away.” He tried to follow her, pushed him back. She didn’t want his excuses. Not yet. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I need to think,” she repeated, then ran down the hall, entered a room, she wasn’t sure which one, just whichever one she happened to enter in first, and slammed and locked the door behind her.

Everything finally made sense, and yet, nothing made sense at the same time.

She paced the room as she tried to think through everything that she had just learned, no, remembered.

Everything was so confusing.

The tools. She remembered seeing them. The tools were what made her, what Abraham had used to build her.

The book. The first one that she read. The one she had picked up in and asked Abraham what it was.

The clock. The best friend she had for a while. It was what she talked to pass the days, for comfort.

The first dress. She had worn it her very first (and her second) time out of the house and into town.

The satins and the gems. It was what she had used to make Amelia's wedding dress. Amelia had loved the dress Constance had made, and it looked so beautiful on her.

The next dress. It was what she had worn to Amelia's wedding. She had loved that dress, and even more so because it was what she wore when she officially met Amelia. Her best friend.

The other fabrics. Remains from making every woman in town a dress, for free.

The last dress. Her favorite to wear. She had been wearing it when everything was so... wonderful, and all the way until everything turned terrible.

The picture. It was of Abraham's daughter. It had always been out, on Abraham's desk. Constance hated it. She hated that Abraham expected her to be the daughter he had lost. He never once seemed to think that she was different.

The hat. Will's hat. He'd always been wearing it. The only time Constance had seen him not wearing it—in the 'before' anyway—was when right before he died. He had taken it off and given it to her. That was why it was the last. The last part of the puzzle.

And of course the missing part. Will.

All along, she had known him. All along, she had loved him.

There was so much time, and he never told her. He said that he had wanted to, but if he really had, if he really had wanted to tell her, why didn't he when he had the chance?

Constance didn't want everything they had to end. Everything had been so wonderful, but that might have ended now.

She had everything she had ever wanted all along, and she might have ruined it.

She had a story. She had a "once upon a time" and even a "happily ever after." She had Will, and they were happy.

And now she ruined it.

She didn't even have others to turn to for help. Everyone else she had known, everyone else she had loved, they were gone.

Amelia, gone. Henry, gone. Everyone in town, gone.

Abraham, gone. And she never got the chance to make things better between them.

All she had left was Will, and she'd gone and ruined that.

Will had lied to her. He had, and Constance hated lies, but she couldn't help but feel like it was still her fault. If she hadn't reacted like that and just tried to listen to him, tried to see his point of view, maybe she wouldn't have messed that up too.

She had done everything wrong. Everything was ruined, and it was her fault.


	15. Love Will See Us Through

She wanted to do something. She wanted to fix everything, but she didn’t know how. So she just sat there, leaning against the door, curled up as tightly as she possibly could. She wanted to just disappear, or maybe freeze. She was fine with either. She just couldn’t deal with this pain. She wanted it to go away, and she didn’t really care how.

Constance wanted to say something, anything that could make this right, but she didn't know if she could find the right words.

She waited a long time, unsure of what to do besides wait.

She waited until she found what she had been waiting for.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you would even want to listen,” Will began, his voice muffled through the door, “but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for everything. I was—” He stopped suddenly. It sounded like he was having trouble coming up with what to say. “It doesn’t matter what I was trying to do. I never should have hidden anything from you. I did wrong. I know I did, and I know I can’t just make it right, but I’m terribly sorry. There’s… there’s nothing more I can say.” Constance waited for a moment, considering his words. She heard footsteps, and she knew he was walking away.

Constance stood up and opened the door a crack, just enough so that she could see Will out of it.

"How do I know that you aren't still lying to me?" She saw him flinch, and she knew that the question hurt him, but she also knew that it needed to be asked. He had lied to her. She hated lies. She didn't want to be lied to again.

"I guess, you don't," he said quietly, seemingly not able to look up and meet her gaze. "There's no way that I can prove that I'm telling the truth. There's no way to prove that I'm even worth trusting again, but I truly am sorry. I... I want you to know that."

It took her a moment to figure out what to say next.

“No more secrets,” she eventually decided on. Lies were terrible, secrets were just as bad. Secrets were lies but in a better package.

He nodded. “No more secrets. I promise.” He was finally able to look up at her.

"A very long time ago, you said that we all have to make our own choices," she continued, opening the door opening slightly more. She didn't know if he remembered, she didn't even know what his memory was like, but it was important to her.

Will nodded.

"I'm making my own choice right now." This was a big choice. A very important one, but it wasn't hard for her to figure out what she chose. "And I choose to trust you."

"I promise, I'll be better." To some, a promise wasn't that big of a deal. To Constance, they were incredibly important. Which made it even worse when a promise was broken.

“And I… I still want what we had… recently," she continued slowly. She had enjoyed it, and she didn't want to lose it. “I want to sing and play music and dance with you, but it’s going to be different now, isn’t it?”

“It might," Will agreed, "but it could be better. We can still sing and play and dance like before, but now… now…”

“Now I know that I love you.” She said with a smile. She knew it now. Now that she knew it, she wasn't going to lose it again.

Will finally met her gaze. He didn't respond though.

"Do you still not believe in fate?" she asked.

He thought for a moment before responding. "I think, maybe, sometimes even making our own choices can't change what is set. But you can't let it control you. You can't let anything or anyone control you."

"I believe in fate," she said. "I think that without it, we would never have gotten this far. But I also think it's not up to fate to determine what comes next. Only we can determine that."

Constance threw the door open the rest of the way and ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. "I love you, Will. I love you.”

She felt Will's arms wrap around her as he choked out “I love you too,” as if it was difficult. He kissed the side of her head. Then he picked her up and swung her around. Constance couldn't help but giggle.

When he put her back down, she looked up at him and asked, “Can we dance?” She loved dancing. She loved the feeling of Will holding her close. She loved the simplicity of a way that they could hold each other, and also the complexities of the dances themselves.

He nodded, “Of course.”

As they danced, Constance reveled in the feeling of being near to him.

"I love you, Will," she whispered.

"I love you too, Constance."

The word "love" was truly wonderful. Almost as wonderful as the feeling itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!!!! I had a lot of fun writing this. This was one of the first things I've done in Constance's perspective, so I think it was really helpful to explore her character more without needing to come up with a new story as I did it.
> 
> Chapter Titles:  
> Home: Beetlejuice/Beauty and the Beast/Willow  
> Learn to Do It: Anastasia  
> When the Sun Goes Down: In the Heights  
> I Love the Way: Something Rotten!  
> Reflections: Jekyll & Hyde  
> Angel of Music: The Phantom of the Opera  
> Crossing a Bridge: Anastasia  
> A Light in the Dark: Next to Normal  
> The Dance: Miss Saigon  
> Make it Right: The Prince of Egypt  
> Pursue the Truth: Jekyll & Hyde  
> Journey to the Past: Anastasia  
> Confrontation: Les Miserables/Miss Saigon/Jekyll & Hyde  
> Love Will See Us Through: Follies (I was going to do something from Memphis, but then I realized, Fra was in Follies, Fra did this song, and I couldn't very well pass up that opportunity!)
> 
> (I know I have different versions of the same musical on here that have some songs and don't have others, yes I'm talking about Jekyll & Hyde, but shhh)

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments appreciated, (but I won't publish any that swear)


End file.
